


Under Stress

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: Outside Edge [19]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ice Skating, Light Angst, M/M, Teen Romance, mention of an injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: With a stress fracture to his right foot, Kurt is off his blades for a little while, watching his boyfriend enviously as Sebastian performs triple axels as easily as if he's skipping down the street. But Sebastian, knowing how heartbroken Kurt feels being sidelined, finds a way to take his injured boyfriend out on the ice.





	Under Stress

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one is inspired by my own injury that kind of has me sidelined, as well as an excerpt from the book "My Sergei: A Love Story" written by figure skater Ekaterina Gordeeva about her late husband Sergei Grinkov. There are also snippets in here that give hints about the main fic ... which is out there ... somewhere xD

“Okay, Kurt! Watch this one! I promise, it’s gonna be better than the last one!”

“Oh, boy,” Kurt mutters, envy dripping from the glare in his blue eyes as his boyfriend circles the ice. “How many triples do you have in this new program anyway?”

“Uh … six, I think? Seven, maybe?”

“Isn’t that a little much?”

“Maybe. But it never hurts to be extra.”

“It will if you sprain your ankle.” Kurt watches Sebastian take a preliminary lap to build up speed. He hits his stride, sets up his jump, and leaps. He twirls, hanging in the air as if he could stay suspended there forever, then lands cleanly on one leg, his arms outstretched, his posture impeccable.

Even after months of not touching his figure skates in favor of playing hockey, he’s still got it.

“And there you have it, folks. Yet another stunning triple axel by Sebastian Smythe,” Kurt grumbles as Sebastian skates over and glides to an elegant stop.

“Thank you.” Sebastian bows, waving and blowing kisses as if to a crowd of applauding fans. “Thank you, thank you.”

Kurt sighs gloomily as Sebastian swizzles backwards, transitioning into a flawless attitude spin. “No fair. I want to be out there with you.”

Sebastian slides to an immediate halt, as if Kurt just threatened to jump off the building.

“Not with that stress fracture, you don’t,” he says, the coach in him slipping out.

“I know, I know.” Kurt looks down at the clunky black boot covering his right foot and ankle. “Damn stupid metatarsals. You’re weak. Weak, I tell you.”

“You know, you wouldn’t have fractured it if you’d just rest once in a while,” Sebastian remarks, looking at Kurt’s foot with concern. Even now, he doesn’t rest as much as the doctor ordered. He should be sitting in the penalty box, keeping weight off it. Instead, he’s standing in the doorway of the rink, shifting his weight out of discomfort, in constant contemplation of how he can sneak on the ice without Sebastian seeing him. “You’re exceptional. You don’t have to practice _so_ much …”

“You don’t win the gold without practice.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian says, annoyed by that logic. It’s the same logic that a lot of coaches use in competition circles all over to pressure their skaters into practicing when it would be better for them to take it easy. It’s the logic that parents use, people like Maya’s mom, to push their kids into competing above their skill level before they’re ready, or practicing while they’re sick or when they’re tired and have nothing left to give. It’s the same logic that Sebastian used on himself, trying to do _anything_ that would get his parents attention.

It’s the logic that Kurt has lived by, fighting to be the best against boys who treated him like a loser.

The way Sebastian used to.

“There’s more to life than winning gold medals, Kurt.”

“For you, maybe.” Kurt chuckles. “Not for me. I remember hearing how much you hated skating sometimes, and yet you still did it. And you won, all the time. But me? I had to work harder to get _half_ of what you had, but I wanted that half more than you wanted your whole.”

“It wasn’t about talent,” Sebastian says with regret. “You can skate circles around me, with one leg in a cast and your eyes closed. It was about politics … and money.”

Kurt smiles, but he still looks sad. “That’s sweet of you to say. But honestly, I didn’t have to win the gold medal. I just wanted to skate. I wanted to perform and make my parents proud. Make myself proud. Even when I was sick as a dog, I still wanted to be out here more than anything else in the world. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Sebastian looks at his boyfriend, tilting his head to catch his eyes while Kurt stares solemnly at the foot he’s convinced is ruining his life.

“Well, do you wanna come out here and skate with me?” he asks, an idea sprouting in his head that’s too delicious to ignore.

“Don’t tease me, Sebastian. You know I do.”

“Hold on one second. I have an idea.” Sebastian steps off the ice. He wipes his blades clean with his gloved fingers, then slides his blockers over them. Then he trots off to the rental window. He tries the employee entrance, but it’s locked, so he hops up onto the counter and jumps in.

Kurt hears rustling outside the double doors, and his attention goes in that direction, curious as to who else might be in the building considering it’s way before hours. When no one walks past the windows, Kurt turns back to Sebastian, who’s returning to the ice with a blue plastic seal in tow.

Sebastian giggles like a giddy idiot at what he obviously perceives as a genius plan, but Kurt’s jaw drops.

“You _can’t_ be serious,” he says, grimacing at the turquoise pinniped as if it personally offended him, insulted his mother, and kicked the dog he doesn’t have.

Sebastian looks at the seal sled, then back at Kurt, blinking innocently. “Why not?”

“Because … it’s _embarrassing_! What if someone sees me on that thing?”

“It’s five o’clock in the frickin’ morning! No one’s here! The place doesn’t officially open for another seven hours!”

“Yeah, well, with my luck, everyone we know will show up the minute you get me on that thing,” Kurt says, but he relents, taking Sebastian’s hand when offered and climbing carefully onto the back of the plastic beast. Kurt settles into the narrow seat, adjusting his legs on either side into some semblance of comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Sebastian says, removing his blockers. “I won’t go too fast and shoot you off it or anything.”

“ _That’s_ reassuring.”

“Are you ready?” Sebastian grabs the handle and gives it a little push to test the weight.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then hold on. Here we go!”

Sebastian starts out slowly, pushing Kurt onto the ice but grunting with the effort, even after the smooth plastic hits the slick surface.

“What? Am I too heavy for you?” Kurt kids. “I thought you’ve been spending hours in the gym lifting weights.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I should have been doing this instead.” Sebastian struggles with the seal, searching for the sweet spot on the underside of the sled that will allow it to glide with Kurt on it. Kurt’s weight isn’t the problem. It’s his _height_. The kids who ride these things are usually six-years-old and younger (though Sebastian has seen a few rowdy twelve-year-olds take them out for a spin when no one’s looking), but they wear skates on their feet to reduce friction. Kurt can’t put on his skates, not with his fractured foot. Giving him a skate for his uninjured foot would defeat the purpose. With a blade on only one side, he’d slide around in circles.

Kurt is doing his part to make this work, lifting his legs up by his knees to keep the soles of his shoes off the ice, but his legs are too long. He could elevate his legs onto the head of the seal and recline back, but that would put too much weight on the ankle of his injured foot.

Sebastian begins to think that maybe his plan isn’t as genius as he thought it was and slows to a halt, coming up with a better solution.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks when Sebastian pulls along his side. “Why have we stop---what are you _doing_?” Kurt screeches, inferring Sebastian’s intention when he slides an arm underneath his knees.

Sebastian looks into his boyfriend’s eyes – soft and sincere and so full of affection. “Do you trust me?”

Kurt melts at that easy, open expression on his boyfriend’s face, the one he seems to reserve only for Kurt, the one that communicates love and guilt, pride and sorrow, and all of the other emotions that their relationship has been about thus far. He smiles at the boy putting his other arm around his back, and reciprocates with an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Only on days that end in _y_.”

“Well, since today’s Sunda _y_ ,” Sebastian says, stressing the last letter, “then it’s your lucky day. On the count of three. One … two …”

Sebastian lifts his boyfriend into his arms in one go. He feels lighter than Sebastian remembers, either because Sebastian has been training more in preparation for his next competition, or because Kurt, unable to train for the time being, has lost a fair amount of weight.

Or maybe it’s because Kurt has never been a burden whatsoever.

He’s only ever been a joy.

“No jumping now, you hear?” Kurt warns, letting fly with a whoop when Sebastian twirls once before heading across the ice.

“Aw. And I’ve been working on my quad jumps and everything,” Sebastian teases, but he wouldn’t dare a jump with Kurt in his arms. Not even a bunny hop.

Kurt squeals as Sebastian throws in another slow spin, but begins to relax when he continues doing lazy wide slaloms down the ice.

“Hmm … now _this_ is the way to skate,” Kurt jokes. “No wonder all the girls start looking for pairs partners early. How come I never thought of this before?”

“Because you’re too independent,” Sebastian says, easing around the corner. “You don’t need someone to lift you into the spotlight. You shine bright enough all on your own.”

“That, and if I _was_ a pair skater, _I_ would be doing all the lifting. Which would be difficult considering, for me to have a partner, I’d need to find someone with a smaller build than me, and that means a six- to eight-year-old.” Kurt chuckles, picturing himself lifting one of his little diva ice dancers in the air, one-handed. It would be adorable, yes, but it probably wouldn’t win them any style points against the other hormonal teens who dance like they’re in love.

The way he and Sebastian dance on the ice when they get the chance.

“Pair skating is for guys who are too boring to pull off a routine on their own, so they find the prettiest girl they can to make themselves look good.”

“Wow” – Kurt snickers, seeing as when Sebastian’s biggest rival, Hunter Clarington, left Westerville’s team in disgrace, he had to become a pair skater because no team would touch him as a single skater. Not after what he pulled – “Don’t hold back, Sebastian. Tell us how you _really_ feel.”

“You don’t need anyone, Kurt,” Sebastian says, admitting his greatest fear with a hard swallow. “You’re perfect all on your own.”

“I need _you_ ,” Kurt argues.

Sebastian smiles, but he knows it’s not true - not in this arena, anyway. But it’s nice to hear. “Well, you have me.”

Sebastian readjusts his grip on Kurt’s back and Kurt gasps.

“Please, don’t drop me,” he says, resting his head against Sebastian’s shoulder with a deep sigh.

Sebastian tightens his hold on the boy in his arms. “I’d never dream of it.”


End file.
